Stone and Sun
by princesscharming101
Summary: What are you muttering alone in the dark for, Bela?" A dangerous voice floated through the air, staining her ears with malice... Soviet Era fic.
1. Chapter 1

Stone and Sun

Natalia sat in her corner, alone. She was always alone afterwards. It was what she needed, and he knew it.

"Brother," she whispered in a timid voice not meant to be heard.

If anyone heard her small voice they'd leave her. Brother would leave her if she showed weakness.

She didn't want Brother to leave. But she also didn't want him to stay. Not afterwards. Never afterwards. That's why she came to the corner.

Because afterwards she felt empty. He took everything from her. He simply devoured her; body, mind, soul. She needed time to get herself back.

She could hear little drops falling down her face, onto her dirty, torn dress. How strange – that she could hear her tears but couldn't feel them.

Because she was empty. She was always empty afterwards.

The same thoughts circled in her mind like buzzards around a kill.

"What are you muttering alone in the dark for, Bela?"

A dangerous voice floated through the air, staining her ears with malice.

The worst part was that it was a voice she knew – a voice that normally echoed with utter honesty and happiness through the halls of the UN. Alfred. Now it threatened her, in a tone she knew all too well.

This man was worse than Brother, in some ways. He was jealous and powerful. He was a force to be reckoned with. He was America.

"I told you never to call me that, you fool," she lashed out, returning his addresses with an equal amount of hate. She reached under her tattered blue dress for her trusty blade, willing something to happen.

Maybe fighting with America would help her get herself back. Fill her up again.

She chuckled at her own uncertainty. Of course it would fill her up again. It always did.

Because, as regularly as Russia was there to take everything away from her, Alfred was always waiting in the wings to bring it all back.

That's the way it had been for years. That's the way it would continue to be.

But, she thought to herself, I've been feeling a lot emptier lately. Brother has required more and more from me. I think I may be dying. I mustn't let America know. Because then he will abandon me too.

He only does this for his own satisfaction. He doesn't care. Not like brother does. America just wants to be the hero.

That's what she had to keep telling herself, so that she didn't collapse from the exhaustion.

She gripped her knife with shaking fingers, waiting for the adrenaline – the strength – to flood through her, like she always relied on it to do when she was in her corner.

Alfred was unusually silent today. He hadn't uttered a single comeback yet. Natalia wondered why.

"Bela, why do you need me?"

His voice was surprisingly close to her ear. She hadn't even heard him approach. What was wrong with her? She ought to have seen him coming from a mile away. She really was out of it today.

He'd surprised Natalia, but she knew better than to let herself jump like some girl. Like Seychelles. Or Taiwan. She almost snorted in disgust. Women.

She let utter revulsion creep into her voice as she answered.

"I don't need you. I only need Brother. I'm using you, the same way you're using me."

"You don't believe that."

"And who are you to decide what I believe? If you are not pleased with this arrangement, you may leave. I've already stated that I am not in _need_ of your services."

Silence. Natalia felt him move beside her, but he didn't get up. Instead he put his arms gently around her.

She froze, forgetting the blade in the palm of her hand.

This was where she normally lashed out at him, fighting to the end. This was where he easily disarmed her and kissed her roughly.

Yet none of these routines transpired.

Instead, just for once, Belarus let herself be held. She even let herself settle quietly into the stronger country's embrace, letting her weakness show, just for one peaceful moment.

He smelled perfect, like wood fires and a warm bed and fresh coffee in the morning. She would never admit it, but she loved the scent of America.

His formal button up shirt crinkled gently against the worn cotton of her dress, and his blond hair fell into his eyes as he looked gently down at her.

He was completely different from Brother.

She'd realized this from the beginning, but it seemed to stand out now more than ever.

Where Ivan stood tall, intimidating, and formal, Alfred was lithe and strong. He always appeared completely relaxed, regardless of the situation.

Where Russia was the cold sun glinting off colder snow, America was a warm breeze blowing through a field of wheat.

Natalia could see why Ivan wanted him so much. And Ivan always got what he wanted.

That's why she couldn't leave Brother. She had so much to learn from him. He was the strongest person she knew. That's why she continued to give every last bit of herself to him. Even if it cost her everything.

Yet, in her heart, she knew that what she was doing was wrong. Being with Alfred was wrong. Betraying Brother was wrong.

She couldn't stop herself. She knew she was cheating something out of Ivan, and she did it anyways.

She was despicable. She'd stolen one of her beloved Brother's lovers from him. And worse, she'd done it while hiding in the dark, right after she'd promised everything to Russia.

She smiled.

"Kiss me."

"As you wish, my lady."

"Don't be an ass."

"Shut up."

"No, you-" She was cut off by warm, soft lips pressing against her rough ones, making her forget everything but him.

Ivan was gone. The hunger she constantly suffered from was gone. The pain of being with Brother was gone. The cold stone floor that her bruised body knew all too well was gone.

There was only Alfred.

She lost herself in the warmth that washed over her whenever he was with her. She heard herself whisper his name, felt the blood rush to her cheeks when he let his mouth wander from her lips down to her neck, saw her worn body curve into him.

She enjoyed every gentle second of his embrace.

Natalia was so lost in him that she hardly noticed when he carried her to the small bed that lay sagging in the corner of her cold stone room.

She was so entranced by his lips that she didn't care how he laid her out; handling her like she was made of porcelain. Maybe she was. She didn't care what she was made of, as long as she had him to care for her.

She was so preoccupied by his solid weight on top of her that she failed to discern how he laid her knife and his gun out on the bedside table, careful to keep them both out of easy reach from the bed.

She was so spellbound by his beautiful blue eyes that she couldn't perceive the chill that crept into her bones when he peeled her clothes off, unraveling her like a ball of string.

She wasn't even conscious of her own hands, caressing him, undressing him with the same vigor that he held her thin, broken body.

Belarus only became aware when he was inside her, filling her up so completely that she felt she was going to overflow with molten sunshine.

Then she was overly alert. She heard her shallow breaths mingle with his deep ones. She felt his large, rough hands cradle her like they would a child. She knew Alfred was struggling to hold back, be gentle. For her.

Now she knew, with unnerving certainty, that Alfred was completely different from Brother.

She knew that this was why she needed America so much. This was why she could risk everything, in her dark world where only Brother existed.

And as she flew, high up into the clouds, reaching the last, highest point of perfection, she caught a momentary glimpse of that elusive emotion that everyone made such a big deal about.

In that moment, she saw love.

Then she was back in a cold stone room, ragged breaths bursting from her chest and a handsome, sweaty man collapsing beside her on the tiny, squeaky bed that held all of their experiences in its worn lumpy fibers.

Natalia watched Alfred lay still for a few moments, a silly grin on his face and his eyes closed as he breathed deep, steady breaths into the Belarusian air.

"You lost control this time. You always do when you're tired."

Those quiet words shattered the serene silence. Why did he have to bring up something like that at a time like this?

"I did not lose control. I never lose control. Whatever I did was done intentionally."

"Don't lie to yourself."

"I'm not lying."

"Then why are you crying?"

Belarus reached trembling fingers up to her face, feeling warm tears. Alfred reached over to run his fingers through her long platinum hair, holding her close to his broad chest and letting her cry in silence.

Natalia sniffled and roughly pushed her fist across her cheekbone, wiping away all evidence of emotion.

"I am not crying. I'm not tired. And I am not weak. Don't take pity on me. It is worthless."

"Does that mean you think you're worthless?" Cruel words echoed through her mind.

It wasn't so much what he'd said that got to her. It was the way he'd said it. Softly, honestly questioning her. Listening for her answer.

Brother never listened to her.

She shrugged, letting her mask slip easily into place.

"Maybe. But it doesn't matter, as long as I can be of use to Brother."

"You know that's not true."

"Yes, it is."

"No!" Indignant rage had crept into Alfred's voice, and his rough hands grasped her arms just a little too tightly.

"No, it isn't true! Are you so deluded by your own notions of importance that you can't see Ivan's just using you? He doesn't need you! He only takes you because you keep throwing yourself at him! Damnit, Bela, why can't you see that he doesn't care about you like I-"

He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a gentler voice. "like I do. Natalia, please, for once, just listen to me. It's a new decade. The Soviet Union will fall soon. Surely you can feel it. Ivan knows it too, which is why he's taking so much from you now. And if you continue to give, you'll end up dead. You know it, I know it, and Ivan knows it. I can offer you freedom. I can offer you life. Bela, come with me. I'll take care of you. I won't just take from you like Russia does. I- I don't want to lose you,"

Natalia could see the honest, caring tears form in the corners of his bright eyes. She listened to Alfred's tirade in silence, considering carefully everything he said.

"You know I can't abandon Brother. I've known for a long time that what I'm doing is going to cost me everything. I've made my decision. Now the only question is, can you handle it?" She expected her coy tone to surprise the blond, but the only thing she saw on his face was endless determination.

He leaned down and kissed her roughly, shoving her lips open, stealing intimacy from her. Then, quicker than lightning, America rolled over, grabbing both weapons from the bedside table and landing lightly on his feet, handgun pointed at her head.

"I expected you to say that. I should've known that it was useless to be gentle with you. I should've known better than to be honest. I should've known that the only way you respond is when motivated by violence. Fine then, Natalia, you now have a completely different choice. Get dressed and come with me, or die, here and now. Remember, you can't help your beloved brother if you're six feet under."

She could see steadfast resolution in the country's eyes. He was serious. Her eyes flicked to the gun. The safety had been subtly clicked off. This was it. The deciding moment. Damn, why was he so smart? He knew she wouldn't risk death if Brother depended on her to live.

Belarus was furious with herself. She should've seen this coming. It was so obvious! The way he'd been so much gentler with her this time. The way he'd held back when he knew she couldn't take more. He'd been trying to trick her into trusting him!

And it had almost worked.

This was why Ivan was better. Because he didn't fool people with fluorescent sunshine. He was cold, but he was honest. If he wanted something out of her, he'd just take it. No sneaking around. No seducing. No tears. Just pure power.

She slipped timidly from under the covers, sliding her undergarments over her bruised hips and shoulders, watching America keenly as he did the same. They both dressed in tense silence, each watching for an opening from the other. None appeared. By the time Natalia's hair bow was in place and Alfred's tie was knotted, America still held both the weapons and Belarus still had nothing.

America approached her from behind, slipping an arm tightly around her waist and pointing the sleek metal gun at her back. To anyone else, it would appear that they were a happy couple. He whispered in her ear, suddenly sinister.

"Open the door. And smile, my dear. We're catching an express flight to D.C. this afternoon."


	2. Chapter 2

Stone and Sun

The only thing Alfred could hear was the faint whir of the plane engine and the clink that his glass of scotch made against the plastic armrest of his seat. He knew that there must be a flight attendant hiding somewhere in front of him, and that the mandatory FBI bodyguards used for specialized missions like this one were somewhere behind him, guarding the emergency exit in case Natalia got the idea to jump rather than continue her acquaintance with America.

And, of course, there was Bela. She was so close to the young country that he could feel warmth emanating from her lithe body, drawing him into her. She'd always had that affect on him – attracting him without notice, her mere presence making him hyper alert. He was perfectly in tune to the way she inhaled quickly, then after a short – but adorable – slight hiccup, she'd let out that breath. Every movement seemed to have a purpose to her. It was a conscious effort for her to keep breathing.

That was bad. Having to think about breathing was bad. She must've been in far worse shape than she let on. Alfred examined her with his mind. He tried to remember every bruise he'd seen on her too thin body, recall every scar. There were too many.

Ivan, that bastard. America couldn't understand why Bela kept running back to him. All he did was take. He was a fucking black hole, for Christ's sake. Damn Commie, why did he always have to get what Alfred wanted? Well, not this time. No. This time, he had that bastard right where he wanted him. And Natalia was going to be safe with him. Two birds, one stone. He let that familiar stone cold glint of determination seep into his deep blue eyes as he squeezed his glass a little tighter.

Alfred could feel Natalia's hatred from his seat. He didn't dare look at her, so he continued to stare out the window at the dark sky that was cloaked in diamonds and rotting with Alfred's fear. Fear that Ivan would catch on before she'd recovered enough to be set free. Fear that she wouldn't even make it through the nine hour flight home. Fear that, if Alfred was being honest with himself, that he'd made a mistake. That by forcing Bela to be with him, he was only forcing hatred out of her.

That was one problem about being a hero. Sometimes the damsel in distress didn't want to be rescued. Sometimes she struggled. And sometimes, sometimes the hero got confused. At those times the hero didn't know what was right and what was wrong. Then the hero thought himself to be a little egotistical and a little selfish. Sometimes he knew it. And sometimes, once in a while, he was right. Occasionally, the hero had to fail, at his expense, or someone else's. Alfred prayed this wasn't one of those times.

No matter what, Alfred couldn't let himself believe it was right to leave her, to let her die. He'd decided that long before he'd pointed a gun at her head in her icy cold room. He had to do it, right?

America couldn't handle it anymore. He turned his head, ever so slightly, to glance at the pale and beautiful girl beside him. She'd fallen asleep. Her head was tilted towards his, and her arms hung limply, hands folded in her lap. Alfred couldn't help but notice how much happier she looked in her sleep. The years of abuse and hardship were erased from her brow, and her mouth even curled up in a little smile that Alfred hadn't seen in years. He wanted to touch her.

America reached over and pushed the armrest that separated them back into its upright position, grabbing his bomber jacket off the back of the seat in front of him. Then, very carefully, Alfred laid it across Natalia's weak shoulders. She was so small she looked a little lost in the makeshift blanket. Still unconscious, she snuggled into it, letting out a soft sigh.

Alfred resisted the urge to chuckle. He scooted closer to her, putting an arm around the unconscious country and pulling her into his chest. Perhaps while she was awake, Belarus hated him, and maybe that was better for both of them. But when she was asleep, he could just sit here and enjoy holding her, right?

* * *

Natalia woke with the slight _thump_ that the plane made as it touched down on American soil. Her eyes popped open in fear and she immediately reached for the knife in her waistband – only to realize it was missing.

Instead, she was being crushed by a giant, blond, snoring lump. Alfred. His jacket was crumpled up in her lap, and he was breathing into her ear.

Traitor. How dare he hold her so close, after what he did?

Filthy criminal. He kidnapped her, took her away from her brother, her home.

She was incensed with him, but she knew that most of her anger ought to be pointed at her. She hated herself for being too weak to escape his iron grip. She loathed the fact that he'd gotten to the weapons first. And she just _detested_ that she'd let him charm her with that brilliant smile of his.

Brother's smile was much more beautiful. It was cold as ice, and perfect as each snowflake that was probably falling in her homeland at that very moment.

Brother's smile was so much better, not because of the mere shape of his mouth or the whiteness of his teeth, but because it was so rare. Brother grinned, smirked, and sneered all too often, but a smile – now that was something to pay attention to.

Natalia missed that smile, that brother, more than anything else. She could feel the last vestiges of energy fading away with her will to live.

And that damn American was still drooling on her! How could he possibly still be asleep?

She used a sharp elbow to deliver a blow to his lower left rib cage, enjoying the pathetic cry of surprise and pain that he let out as he was jolted awake.

"-oof! Hey, whatcha do that for? It's not like I wouldn't have woken up if you'd just shouted at me…"

"The plane has landed, you dolt."

"Oh. Well then, let's get going! First I want to take you to the Washington Monument, oh, and of course theres congress, and you'll meet the Prez, and we can finally get some quality hamburgers! Well, on second thought, I'm a bit tired, so we should go home first, and then..."

Natalia could already tell that it was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

Stone and Sun

Alfred hovered by the door of his guest room, watching the light fall on Natalia's figure. He knew it sounded tacky, but she actually appeared a bit angelic, what with her platinum blond hair and the graceful curve of her hips, which jutted out at just the right angle underneath that thick comforter of hers. Her lips almost seemed to kiss the standard white pillow that Lithuania had equipped the room with long ago, and her ankles peeped out at the bottom of the bed, exposing her hidden femininity.

The best part about Bela was that she didn't even realize how perfect she was. She was so absorbed in other people that she tended to neglect herself. Alfred recognized that as a trait of a kind person. He knew most people were terribly afraid of her, but he also knew that most people hadn't a clue who she really was. How vulnerable, how alone, how afraid she was. Hell, she didn't even know it. Which was why he had to bring her here, right?

He still wasn't sure about his decision. However, he was sure that she looked like she was getting the best sleep of her life, and he wasn't about to break the peaceful spell that hung around her, draping her in comfort and rest.

The President would just have to wait.

Alfred returned to his sitting room, where Mr. Bush was waiting, sipping a glass of lemonade and munching on a cookie.

"I'm sorry Prez, but the Belarusian ambassador isn't feeling up to par yet. She was very malnourished, you see..." Alfred trailed off, hoping that his excuse would placate the powerful man before him.

Although he'd always had good relationships with his leaders, America simply wasn't needed as much as he used to be. Thus, less time was spent with his Presidents, and more time was spent in his office, and negotiating with other countries. He missed the isolationist days a bit, as they allowed him more time at home and less time in airports. But he supposed that in order for a Hero to find someone in need of saving, he had to be around them; so he took delegatory responsibilities without complaint. Since his own people had no Villains at home, he had to look out for Villains elsewhere.

Like in Russia. Damn commie bastard. At least he was on the verge of collapse. The Berlin Wall had fallen, and the USSR was beginning to crumble. The Evil Superpower was defeated. Now all America had to do was sweep up the dusty countries that were slowly gaining their independence and help them back on their feet. Infrastructure. This was the part Al loved most. He loved seeing the grateful smiles on the dirty faces of abandoned children as they accepted aid labeled with an American flag. He loved watching mothers sigh in relief as, for the first time in months; their families didn't go to sleep hungry. He loved knowing that a hardworking man would have a job to clothe his family and send his children to school.

However, sometimes Alfred's government felt a little differently. Sometimes they wanted these people to suffer a bit. So they knew who they were dealing with. Sometimes they only looked at the numbers. How much it would cost to rebuild roads. How much to spend on boosting the local economy. How much it was worth to improve housing.

How much was enough to give a foreign power, when there was no direct benefit to America? Not even Al knew the answer to that. But the one thing that Alfred did know, deep inside, was that if he had to choose between practicality and kindness, he'd choose the latter. Every time, he'd choose to feed that family. Every time, he'd choose to build that school. Every time, he'd –

"I see. Well then, I suppose there's nothing to be done about it. Is she seeing a doctor?"

Alfred was ripped from his patriotic but silent and imaginary speech by the sound of President Bush's voice.

"Oh! Yes, well I've tried to get her to see mine, but she continues to refuse. Says there's nothing wrong with her. I'm not really sure what to do, actually…" He let a sheepish smile creep onto his face and looked down, running his fingers nervously through golden hair.

"If I were you, young man, I'd use my… masculine talents to persuade her, if you know what I mean," The President smiled and winked, in a manner most unexpected. Was he seriously…?

"Of course, if that doesn't work, you might consider slipping a mild sedative into her drink at dinner one night. I've found it to be quite effective, especially on little Robin…" His smile lost its honesty and took on a plastic look.

Oh, he was joking. But Alfred was surprised he had touched on such a sensitive subject. Usually, Mr. Bush didn't mention his daughter, Robin, who'd died of Leukemia before her fifth birthday. Al sensed that this was a rare moment, one that happened only once in a lifetime. He leaned over and hesitantly touched the other man's shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Right now, the man sitting before him wasn't the leader of the most powerful country in the free world. Right now, he wasn't a self-made millionaire in the oil industry. Right now, George H.W. Bush was just a father who'd lost his little girl. He was a broken man with a heart full of painful memories.

And as that older man looked into Alfred's eyes, he could see the agony and hope mingling together. He didn't want another innocent girl to die when there was something that could help her. Even if it meant drugging her and dragging her to a doctor against her will. No, Al could now see that he was completely serious about what he'd said.

"Don't worry, Sir. I'll find a way. Even if I do have to drug her," Al smiled, and the emotional cloud that had hung momentarily in the room lifted.

"Well, please bring her to my office once she's feeling better. From what you've said about her, Natalia appears to be an incredible young woman."

"Of course, Mr. President. Right away. I'll stop in tomorrow, as well, to look over that new bill. It's the Americans with Disabilities Act, correct? It sounds patriotic enough," Alfred replied, a playful light returning to his eyes.

The President laughed. "Indeed, it is quite a patriotic Bill. Well, I'll take the liberty of excusing myself then. I've got a luncheon with my wife at two, and if I'm late one more time… well, let's just say it won't end well."

Alfred accompanied him to the door and then returned to put the lemonade and cookies back in the kitchen. Then he picked up the phone and dialed an all-too-familiar number.

"Hey Mattie, I need you to do me a favor. Got any Valium?"

* * *

When Natalia opened her eyes, she saw a cream colored ceiling. There was light filtering in from one side of the room, and she could hear a creaking, as if someone were tip-toeing past her door on the other side of the room. She slowly turned her head as consciousness grew on her. She saw a window with green drapes pulled over it to keep the sun out. She knew that kind of sunlight though. It was afternoon sun, when everything becomes muted and people stop working and start dreaming.

These thoughts ran absently through her mind as she absorbed her surroundings further. She was in a comfortable bed. There were no cement walls. And, most important of all, she was warm. In fact, she could even detect the whir of an air conditioner. She listened a little closer. Was that music? It seemed to be coming from downstairs.

She rolled over; taking the sheets with her as she flopped lazily off the bed to see what was going on. She'd learned never to expect anything but the unexpected in Alfred's house. It was easy to believe she'd been here for two weeks already. Natalia felt like a completely different person. Before, she would never have even considered napping during the day. Idle time was to be spent working. It was a principle that had been drilled into her head from her birth into a cold world.

But here, in this country, people took time to stop and smell the flowers. They would do their work readily enough, but they also took great pride in their leisure. They participated in sports, they created films, they accumulated goods like clothing and shoes and electronics – these people had an incredible capacity for absorption. She found herself enjoying it, actually. Her people had so little; it made her blush in shame to think that she'd let them live in poverty and thought it perfectly fine.

When she returned, Natalia would be sure to tell Russia about the things Americans had. Perhaps she could persuade him by means of envy. If she could make Ivan jealous, perhaps she could provide for Belarus the things that so many people took for granted here. She'd never admit her feelings to Alfred, however. That would result in disaster. If he knew that she actually _liked_ it in America, he'd never let her go back. She'd just have to continue hating him until he gave up and went to "save" someone else. Then she could return home. To her country. To her brother and her sister, her beloved family.

She slipped into a light summer dress as she thought these things, and crept to the door, opening it carefully and stepping into the hallway, sliding her slippered feet along the hardwood floors so as not to make a sound. The music was getting louder. It was… rap? She stood at the top of a staircase, listening intently. She could make out her captor's voice singing loudly along with the music, as well as the voice of another. America had a guest?

Natalia couldn't contain her curiosity any longer, and hurried down the staircase. She followed the horrible noise to the kitchen, where the door was cracked open a bit, enough for her to see through. And boy, did she see something.

"It's Tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time. It's Tricky"

America and Canada were rocking out to… Run DMC?

Matt chimed in easily, as if they'd done this a thousand times. Natalia didn't doubt that they had.

"How is it D?"

And Alfred's reply "Tricky"

"Tricky" Matt said again, right in time with the song that was blasting from the boom box on top of the refrigerator.

"Tricky"

"Tricky"

Then came the famous instrumental. Natalia found her head bobbing along, despite her love for classical music.

Matt chimed in again with the song, "When I wake up people take up mostly all of my time  
I'm not singin', phone keep ringin' cos I make up a rhyme"

And now his twin "I'm not braggin', people naggin' cos they think I'm a star  
Always tearin' what I'm wearin', I think they're goin' too far"

Natalia finally giggled, showing her presence to the two boys as she pushed open the door and walked to the table, letting out another snort as she grabbed a glass of milk that was sitting there. Matthew gasped and ran to turn off the stereo, while Al simply smiled and leaned against a counter top.

"So, the beast awakens."

"Why don't you go get in a knife fight? I hear that's what all the G's are doing, these days." Natalia smiled into her milk.

"And hello, Canada. Good to see you're doing well,"

"Haha, well, yes, I'm doing quite fine, really. Um, how are you?" Matt laughed nervously as he talked at the ground, clearly too afraid to meet her eyes.

"Me? Absolutely miserable, of course." Natalia loved putting people in awkward situations.

"Oh, I see. Well that's a pity. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Send me home."

"Oh. Erm… I'm not sure…"

"Jesus H Christ, woman, you're still on that? You're not going home any time soon, okay?" Alfred butted in on their conversation, rude and impatient as usual.

"And no, Matt, you are not going to send my guest back to that nasty, freezing wasteland they call Russia!" Al got quiet after this little outburst, plunging the room into an awkward silence.

"Well well, cat got your tongues? Or is my sexiness enough to make you, how do you say, drop dead?"

The door burst open and in walked a very chic and very arrogant France, followed by Arthur, whose arms were stuffed to the top with cooking ingredients.

"Good God, you twat, don't just burst into people's homes when they're in the middle of a good argument! You might have ruined it!"

Natalia could only look confusedly on as everyone seemed to settle into an alarmingly family-esque pattern. What in the world was going on?

* * *

A/N: my first author's note! Yay! I was trying to make it through an entire story without putting in little snippets of my own, because I didn't want to detract fromt hte story itself, butttttttt... I think there's a little explaining I need to do... First of all, on the date... right now it's spring of 1990, probably in may. the "americans with dissabilities act" passed in july of that year, but i'm stretching the timeline a bit so I can develop the story. I know it doesn't take months for a bill to be signed into law by the prez, but work with me, okay?

and just to clarify, for those too lazy to read the above comment... THIS IS THE ORIGINAL PRESIDENT BUSH, NOT THE RECENT ONE. THIS STORY TAKES PLACE IN 1990-1991!

if people are interested, i can also provide a rough timeline of events during the fall of the USSR in the next chapter :D anything for my readers :D

finally, Faves are a smile, Alerts are a giggle, but comments are a HELL YEAH! so please take some time to tell me how you like my story!


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